


And Not Need More Blood from the Tip of Your Star

by Mount_Seleya



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Episode Fix-it: s08e04 The Last of the Starks, F/M, Femdom, Fix-It, Light Dom/sub, Lingerie Kink, Not Beta Read, POV Jaime Lannister, Restraint, Season/Series 08, Showverse, Sub Jaime Lannister, Subspace
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 19:51:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20822870
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mount_Seleya/pseuds/Mount_Seleya
Summary: Jaime tries to steal away from Brienne. She stays him in more ways than one.





	And Not Need More Blood from the Tip of Your Star

**Author's Note:**

> I suggested on Tumblr that someone ought to write a Jaime/Brienne fic inspired by Gwendoline Christie's recent _GQ_ photoshoot and so here I am doing the thing I want done.
> 
> Title from the song "Datura" by Tori Amos.

Jaime's fingers curled slowly around the doorknob. Doubt festered in his gut, a slow, clenching churn. He needed to steel himself, for winter's bite and the hard, lonely road south, away from the impossible warmth he'd found here. Brienne deserved to be rid of him. Of Lady Sansa's reproachful eyes. Of the hateful whispers of Northmen.  
  
_Kingslayer's whore_, he'd heard in the yard two days past. It had taken a feat of will not to run the guard through. No doubt they'd have dragged him to the block, but it would've been a fitting end to his sorry life, defending the honour he'd stolen when he'd shown up at her door with his foolish, hoping heart pinned to his sleeve like a maid's favour.  
  
A soft exhalation tore Jaime from his thoughts. He stood, heart thudding, breath caught. Then he turned around. Brienne was where he'd left her, lying in the bed they'd shared for a moon, but now her eyes were open.  
  
He sucked in a hitching breath as she drew herself upright. As the long, shapely legs shifted, kicking away the furs. Her black robe parted slightly as she slid out of the bed. Heat flared in his loins at the roll of her breasts.  
  
"They're going to lay waste to the capital," Brienne said, padding toward him.  
  
Jaime swallowed. His mouth seemed full of cinders. "It isn't your fight."  
  
"Why should it be yours?" Hands framed Jaime's face. He sensed the fear beneath the armoured words. The _plea_. "You don't need to die fighting your sister's war. You're a good man. You've done more good than ill."  
  
"I–" Jaime faltered. Something softened inside him. Slipped down his spine like melting wax. Nothing lived beyond this moment, the snare of Brienne's hands and the warm, steady bulk of her body pressing him to the door.  
  
"I won't keep you if you wish to leave," Brienne told him.  
  
"You held me once," replied Jaime. "I rather enjoyed being your captive."  
  
An adorable crease rifted Brienne's brow. Her blue gaze searched Jaime's uncertainly. Time yawned between them. She'd known his best and his worst. Perhaps he owed her this terrible truth. The darkest yearning of his heart.  
  
"_Please_," Jaime urged at last. "Stay me." His voice was a raw gravel drag. "I'm yours."  
  
Understanding settled in Brienne's eyes. Her mouth firmed into a hard little line. Her hands fell away from his face. Dread crashed through Jaime's chest like a black wave. For a long, fraught moment, he feared she would spurn him. He'd fucked his sister. Of course he'd ask this of her. His desires would always be unnatural. Shameful. _Wrong_.  
  
And then strong fingers manacled him. Forced his arms above his head. His false hand hit the door with a _thunk_. The wind spilled out of him, swift as a sword slicing through sunlight, and his eyes screwed shut, head tipping back. A solid warm thigh pushed between the fork of his legs. Ground against the cockstand straining his laces.  
  
Brienne claimed Jaime's mouth in a gently insistent kiss. He was safe, now, stayed by her strength, by her certainty. He'd never imagined there could be relief in surrender. He'd never dared trust this need to Cersei's hands.  
  
After a time Brienne pulled back to meet Jaime's eyes. His breath rushed in and out in harsh pants. He held her gaze as he caught himself, then let it drop to the slice of chest revealed by the half-open front of her heavy, woollen robe. Rose-pink mottled the pale skin between her breasts. _Beautiful_, he thought, his mind drunk with want.  
  
"I knew there was a violent woman hiding beneath all that honour," Jaime drawled.  
  
Brienne tightened her grip on Jaime's forearms. "Is it violence you like?"  
  
Jaime's gaze dragged upward. The eyes that met his were cobalt steel. "I saw you cut down three men with ease." His lips curled into a wicked smile. "You seemed to relish the last. My cock appreciated your mettle."  
  
"Stop talking," Brienne said, and then her lips were on his again, stifling his retort he could voice it.  
  
Jaime groaned. Rutted against Brienne's thigh. Her kiss was a command. Her fingers banded his arms like irons. She'd bested him soundly, the one time they'd crossed swords, and here he was, crushed by his need for her. His body gave, spine turning liquid and heart trembling as the pure, sweet delight of yielding swept through him.  
  
"Bind me," Jaime begged when at last Brienne drew back.  
  
"Why?" Brienne asked, flat and pragmatic, hands falling to undo the buckles on Jaime's jacket.  
  
"Because I want it," Jaime answered. _Because I deserve it_, he added silently. He'd thought to flee this woman's bed. A woman who'd hounded Stannis Baratheon to the end of the earth to face the implacable force of her judgment.  
  
She stripped off his leather jacket, then his yellowing linen shirt, then his travel-worn breeches. Her hands were gentle and certain, the way she'd been that first night, and the half a hundred times they'd bedded each other since. Once he was bare, she undid the laces on the stiff, boiled-leather bracer securing the golden hand to his stump.  
  
Her bare feet shuffled across the stone floor as she moved to set his false hand on her night-table. He dithered in the silence between them for a long moment, the firelight playing across the lean, sharp lines of his body.  
  
"Come," Brienne said at last.  
  
Jaime traipsed over to the bed. The furs tickled his back as he laid down. He stretched his arms above his head. His heart was hammering like a hare's, chest rising and falling with his breath, its black fur shot through with silver.  
  
The ancient bedstand creaked as Brienne climbed onto it. One long leg jutted from the skirt of her robe as she knelt. Then her hands reached down, shackling Jaime wrist and stump, pinning his arms against the furs. His fingers closed around empty air, and a rightness washed through his body, bleeding into him soul and sinew.  
  
Blue eyes bore down on him. A question lingered within them. _Yes_, he wanted to tell her. _This is what I have craved_. But his tongue couldn't shape the words, and the world was become a soft, hazy thing, veiled as by a morning mist. He blinked his lashes up at her. Cracked a teasing rind of a grin. His stiff cock twitched against his belly.  
  
Wool whispered as Brienne knelt astride Jaime. She released his stump long enough to align his cock. And then she was restraining him again, pressing his arms to the bed as her hips came down, steady and inevitable as the tide.  
  
"_Stay_," Brienne told him in a low, stern voice once they were joined.  
  
The order sent white fire surging through Jaime's blood. She'd commanded the same on the banks of the Trident. He'd been her captive then; he'd be her captive now. He'd yield a thousand times to taste her sweetness.  
  
His fingers longed to touch as she settled into a rhythm. To brush aside her robe and watch the flex of her thighs. But the steel of her grip holding him down was too good, a glorious counterpoint to the slow, steady roll of her hips. His arse snapped off the bed to meet her. Her breasts swayed as they rocked together. _Beautiful. So beautiful._  
  
Soon he was fraying, eyes screwing shut, mouth falling open. Blood pounded in his ears like the beat of a wardrum. Her hands stayed him, firm and callous-rough, and her hips ground into him, keen as whetstone against blade.  
  
And then he was lost, spending with a raw, guttural groan. His eyes tore open in time to see her find her own pleasure. The lovely arch of her neck as her head tipped back and the pale spider-threads of her lashes as her eyes closed.  
  
"I love you," Jaime whispered when Brienne returned to herself.  
  
"I know," Brienne said, bending to seal a kiss on his lips.


End file.
